CoverUp!
by cassierules
Summary: Kensi and Callen have a dare for our resident geeks. And really, who would turn down 600 in this economy? A very small spoiler for “Pushback”.


Cover-Up!

Summary- Kensi and Callen have a dare for our resident geeks. And really, who would turn down $600 in this economy? A very small spoiler for "Pushback".

Today, Kensi was in "purpose mode". She's walked past the OSP's ornate carved mahogany double doors, case reports in her arm, her jacket and bag swung over her shoulder, the look of someone who wanted something done_ right now _on her face. Sam knew the look well enough to know he should probably be on his way to the Challenger now, GPSing the quickest route to La Jolla Shores. Last time he'd seen Kensi like that, Mace's office had been overrun in Obama posters, which their former hard-as-rock boss had taken with a placid frown and staple remover chucked Kensi's way. _Long way from the probie days_, Sam thought to himself, greeting Kensi with a grin as her things were tossed over his on the tables extra chair.

"So...how you doin', Miss Blye?", he asked, half-hoping Kensi's driven glow had something to do with makeup, or shampoo, or some other _female _thing. She pulled out the chair across from him and leaned across the table, her shining cocoa curls falling in her eyes. Kensi's fingers toyed with a pencil someone had left on the table, thumb working its way up to the eraser, and pushing down on the rubber tip. For some strange reason, Sam found himself mesmerized. Her royal blue nails matched perfectly with the muted slab of dusty fuchsia. _Like one of those Ikea Modern art things... _

Sam shuddered internally. Maybe he really was spending too much time with G these days. He tapped his fingers on the table and refocused on Kensi, who'd (thankfully) abandoned the pencil in a pile of case folders on the far left corner.

"200 bucks, Sam. I already have 400 courtesy of G and moi. It's...hmm, well for government business, and I can trust you right?", she told him, a playfully demanding edge in her voice.

"What? Ask Nate. The wife's already on me for buying the kids a Wii. Besides, if it's legit, ask Hetty for money."

"For the kids, right.", Kensi. She smiled, drew herself back from the table and sighed.

"I would, I guess. Except it one of those things. They're not really in the loop. But, hey, I guess I could tell you. I mean, we're all used to risking our necks, right?" Kensi added a self-serving nod, daring Sam to take the bait. _What the hell._

"Fine. I'll bite."

Kensi rounded the table, making her way over to him, her shirt hanging dangerously low as she bent over his shoulder, pretending to do something on the computer. The mouse cycled through window, until a blank doc came up.

"Kensi-!"

"I can't believe you don't know basic networking. I mean, as an American Citizen, if you were the ones protecting me, I'd move! Ugh, fine, _watch the screen._ Can't believe my taxpayer dollars are going to this...", she ranted as several agents passed by, sipping Coke Zeros from the lunchroom vending machine. Kensi's fingers tapped across the keyboard as she nonchalantly hummed to herself.

_Sorry. She's probably watching....G and I have a little bet with Dom, Nate, and Eric. _

_$600 if they can work some Smartboard voodoo and come up with evidence of the biggest Govt cover up since where the CIA gets their thanksgiving turkeys..._

Sam grunted. Usually, in the field that was their signal for "keep going".

_No guesses? Hetty and Vance._

_They seem kind of._..close _don't they?_

That was it. Sam sprang up from his seat, knocking the laptop aside.

"Smooth.", Kensi whispered. Sam cocked his head.

"Pssh. _Who comes up with this crap_, sill livin' in Mommy's basement, just networking? And hey, girl-" Sam paused to grip Kensi's wrist, just hard enough to be convincing, yet not enough to hurt her. "Don't go ripping on _people better than you_. You'll _be in a body bag by morning,_ I'm just sayin'. _Get to ops_ or wherever you're needed, dammit.", he said, slipping her a small fortune in twenties. A couple of the younger agents who'd been sprawled out on the sofas shifted uncomfortably.

"Thank You.", Kensi mouthed, turning away and pretending to rub at her wrist as she slipped the money into her pockets.

Nate was decidedly far more nervous as he sat beside Dom in matching swivel chairs, Eric mining his hacker resources like mad, than he had been when Callen had promised them six hundred for clicking a few windows, a couple head games here and there. For one thing, between the pastrami sandwich and bright, inviting décor of the lunchroom, he'd seemed far more likely to be joking. _Great job, Nate, you got played by basic color theory and a trained undercover agent you've known for years. _Kensi had shown him the money, rolled up neatly with one of the rubber bands G had slung around the room during the morning's sexual harassment refresher course.

It wasn't just that a cut out of 600 was something to celebrate, but the bragging rights would be nice too. Not to mention...the money covered a nice mid-scale meal in a place down the street from Kensi's apartment. _Maybe._

" Ho Brah!", Eric shouted, as the little lock animation signaling that Hetty's file was Classified sprang apart. He took a swig of green Gatorade and locked his hand on the mouse.

"Okay, Dom, sending it up now. We've got ten minutes before the back-up server kicks in and the file closes up. So Nate, my man, put that photographic memory to good use.

Eric pointed up at the screen to signal "Okay" and Nate began his speed-skim. There were at least twenty pages in the file, and fast as Dom was trying to scroll, there was no way he was going to get anything good. Addresses, phones, parents, though it would all do him good in the long run, it wasn't helping now. He signaled for Eric to close the file.

"Sorry. I mean, not that I didn't get anything, just not anything on well, y'know, what we were looking for. Uh, sorry." Maybe now Hetty wouldn't have a good reason to decorate the OSP with their hardened entrails....

Dom playfully punched him in the shoulder. "C'mon, guy, we're not quitters here! Eric, pull up some flight logs. We know she flies private most of the time, but maybe she missed a public fight to DC that doesn't fall in line with any holidays or conferences. I'll scan for surveillance footage from bars and restaurants around NCIS- DC, an maybe a couple of public parks, too. Nate, run a Google Image search. I mean, you wouldn't believe some of the stuff that ends up on that site."

Nate sat down hard in his chair..._Crud._

Three hours, two hundred separate flights and their connectors, surveillance from thirty-seven DC establishments, four pubic parks and ninety-seven Google Image search pages later, the Gatorade cooler and the guys' info was clean.

"Well, no we know she really does never miss a beat.", Nate muttered. Despite how tired he was getting, he was pleased they had come up empty and pleased to sleep in his bed without fear of.._.Israeli Ninja Assassins _who knew where he lived.

Eric nodded to concede surrender. "Yeah, well, you bros did good. I'm just gonna check my Facebook. Then, see ya tomorrow."

Nate pulled on a light hoodie over his shirt and tossed a couple of case files in his bag. _Thank you God...Thank you._

"Hey guys, check this out! The Director's wife posted a bunch of pictures from their wedding reception....uh, according to events, their Eighth anniversary is this week and Whoa- _Hello!"_

"What?", Dom asked sleepily, dropping his bag on the floor to check out Eric's find. "Holy Governor of Alaska...."

Nate hitched his bag up higher on his shoulder and passed Eric's workstation. "OH MY GOD!"

It was all there, an album page featuring the star of the show, Hetty Lange in a Marc Jacobs cocktail dress cut down to size, obviously feeling the bubbly from what looked like a bottle of the stuff half her size. It wasn't just dancing on tables, it was stuff Nate only remembered form Frat party _legends._

"Uh, guys, is that the Director....uh, with Hetty and....I think that's illegal! The apple, I mean, just kind of....whoa.", Nate shuddered, terrified and intrigued at the same time. "Go through more.", he found himself saying.

"Whoa, indeed, Mr. Getz. Those heels...ugh, some fancy Italian designer with not a thread of competency...gave out after one wedding reception, can you imagine? Of course I returned them, but-"

Nate could hear the "Game Over" tone playing in his head and Hetty rattled on about some Holt's Cashier.

_Revenge would be swift and effective._


End file.
